


Thinking Straight

by SDJ2



Series: Central Park [1]
Category: Simon & Garfunkel, Simon and Garfunkel - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-31
Updated: 2008-12-31
Packaged: 2018-12-19 19:01:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11904177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDJ2/pseuds/SDJ2
Summary: Set during the Concert In Central Park. What happens in the moment between The Boxer and Old Friends?





	Thinking Straight

“Thank you, you made us feel great”, Art said in the microphone before he turned and followed Paul for the stage door.  
It had been a great evening, Paul thought as he opened the door and waited for Art to pull it closed again behind him, the door knob cold between his fingers in the chill September night. Simon & Garfunkel had always been a great combination, and tonight had been no difference. Even though a lot of bickering and arguing had inevitably preceded the concert, the moment they set foot on the stage, it had all come together again and just fit. The songs they had performed, and their chemistry on stage, it seemed like a secret language only the two of them were able to understand and speak. It may have been a while since they last performed together, but it still felt inexplicably right. He hoped Art felt it too. The audience seemed to love it, at least.

He still buzzed with excitement and adrenaline. They had just finished The Boxer, an audience favourite, which he himself loved to perform as well with Artie because he had always thought their harmonies on that particular song were fantastic. Art had obviously enjoyed it too, and more than that, Art had looked at him, recognising their mutual pleasure in performing The Boxer, and had patted his back fondly. To Paul it had seemed such a genuine and caring gesture, that it had made him feel instantly weak in the knees. He was surprised he had managed to remember the lyrics to the song after that. It had made him think back about happier times in the late fifties, when they were both teenage boys growing up in New York, when Artie Garfunkel had been his best friend in the whole world. They had shared so much together back then. They had been inseparable, and the delight of going to a record store with Art, listening to a new song, singing along with the record, dreaming and giggling about how it would be to be famous too, suddenly flashed in his memory as bright and clear as a huge neon sign. He was still very fond of those memories, even though they seemed long lost in the whole mess that this relationship had become afterwards.

Art, still behind him, cleared his throat once they were safe from the audience’s cheers. “Did I….Paul, I don’t think I sang very well tonight, did I?.” Art remarked, and when Paul turned around to look at him Art had such a serious expression on his face, Paul would have started laughing if he couldn’t already imagine the look of hurt on Art’s face that was sure to follow that action. Even though it was funny. How Art could feel so insecure about himself at times was beyond him, really. But he didn’t laugh. He just frowned and looked at his friend. “What? You are kidding right? You did great, Art. You always do. There’s nothing wrong with your singing.” Art’s eyes that had been staring to the ground looked up and searched Paul’s face. He hesitated : “I just…no, I don’t think I was good, I don’t know…didn’t you think that when I sang Me and Julio it didn’t sound right? And I also thought that…”  
Art rambled when he was nervous or upset. Paul had been hanging out with Art long enough back in the days to be able to pretty much figure out immediately why Art was upset. But all Paul heard now was a distant ringing in his ears while he just stared at Art’s mouth, seeing it move but not really hearing a sound that came out. All he knew was that he needed to shut Art up, and really, looking back on it later, there was only the one way to do it. And so, before his brain could get caught up with what he was about to do and tell him to stop, he leaned forward and touched his lips to Art’s to get him to stop talking.

He was k i s s i n g Art Garfunkel.

It wasn’t like he hadn’t thought about doing it before. Paul remembered that all through his teenage years and even after he and Artie had been a huge success and had gotten one hit after the other, there had always been a silent longing, a sharp flash of want in his stomach, a burden he had always carried alone. For as long as he could remember, he had been secretly in love with his friend and partner, but he had never dared to act on it or say anything. This had been his secret for years. He had always hid it carefully. And then Simon and Garfunkel had drifted apart and their partnership gone up in smoke. And both of them had married girls and hadn’t kept in contact for quite a while, and the feelings were buried, laying dormant, but never forgotten. Besides, he had never thought Art would reciprocate the sentiment anyway. 

Which is why it didn’t take him too long now to realize Art wasn’t kissing back. Paul backed off and took a step backwards, trying everything but to look at Art, but failing miserably at that. He couldn’t not look. Some sadistic part of him needed to see this, needed to watch Art’s face and its expressions when Art would reject him. Art just stood there, staring disbelievingly back at him, with his eyes looking like huge round saucers and his pupils nearly dilated. It felt like an eternity, even if it only lasted ten seconds. Paul was embarrassed, of course, and he felt his cheeks flush. How was he ever going to get himself out of this? “I…”, he stumbled over his words, “it’s…I’m sorry, forget I ever did that, I just…I can’t think straight today.” Then he waited. The silence, ironically, was ear deafening. Finally, Art spoke. “That’s right”, he said. (“Here it comes”, thought Paul, and turned his gaze to the ground. Turns out he couldn’t watch the rejection on Art’s face after all.) “Straight is exactly not the way you should be thinking in a situation like this.” It didn’t sound angry at all, in fact, it sounded rather playful. Paul looked up at Art again, a hopeful glint in his eyes, as if he was a teenage boy waiting for permission to touch a girl for the first time, and not like he was a grown man, turning forty in a matter of weeks, who had just kissed the man he had been in love with for nearly 30 years. He was confused. “What?” he asked. Art was still looking at him, only now the surprised look in his eyes had made room for something entirely else. Something very soft and affectionate. “What?”, Paul repeated again. He wasn’t entirely sure what was happening. Then Art was grinning. “Paul, I’m sorry…you just…surprised me, that’s all.” “Come here”, he added. Paul wasn’t moving one bit. But then Art crossed the distance between them and just like that, they were kissing again. Really kissing. Art’s mouth on his, soft and warm, moving in perfect synchrony with his own, much like the harmonies of their songs. Paul’s knees turned to jell-o. Art pulled him even closer, his arms around him, one hand on his lower back, the other cupping the base of his neck, and Paul finally tangled his own hand in Art’s thick curls, and, with his other hand between their bodies and splayed out flat against Art’s chest, backed him against the thin wall of the small hallway with the stairs leading down to the backstage area. It was perfect. It was even better than the most beautiful song they had ever sung together. This was Simon and Garfunkel, now SimonandGarfunkel, making up (and making out!) for lost years backstage at one of their most memorable concerts ever. 

They had to come up for air eventually. Both men were panting when they stopped kissing long enough to actually inhale some oxygen. Paul’s erection was starting to feel really uncomfortable, straining against his pants. He could literally feel Art was struggling with the same problem. Paul started laughing against Art’s mouth. “What?” asked Art, still pressed in between the wall and Paul’s warm body. Paul put some distance between them and motioned between their hips with his hand. “This”, he said. “We need to get back on stage in just a moment. The audience is going to think this is really interesting.” Now Artie flashed one of his bright smiles. “Yeah well”, he said, “at least you have your guitar to hide it under. I’ve got nothing.” They both stood grinning at each other like lunatics. Suddenly Art’s expression turned serious again. “How long?” Paul knew what he was asking. How long have you felt like this? How long have you been hiding this?  
He hesitated only a split second. “A long time. A really fucking long time, Art.”  
Art nodded. “Yeah. Me too.” “You…really?” Paul asked incredulously. Art nodded again. “But why have you never said anything?”, Paul continued. “Same reason you didn’t”, replied Artie. Touché. “Yeah, ok. God, we’ve been so stupid. All these years we’ve wasted.” “Mmmmmm…” Art said dreamingly while holding Paul’s gaze, and leaned forward again to capture Paul’s lips. “Artie…(kiss), we can’t (kiss), we have to go do the encore now (more kisses).” Painstakingly slowly, Art pulled away. “Okay, okay. Pushy”, he said, still smirking. Reluctantly they let go of each other and Art turned around on the stairs to face the audience again that would be greeting them with cheers of we want more. With one hand on the door knob already, Art turned his head one last time and said to Paul : “We’ll continue this later, yeah?” Paul smiled. “Oh yeah”, he said suggestively. “Definitely.” Art swung the door open and disappeared in the stage light. 

Of course, as soon as Paul followed Art through the door, he already missed Art’s affectionate embrace. Suddenly it seemed imperative to touch him again, even if he had to do it subtly under the eyes of the roaring crowd. He didn’t hesitate to touch Art’s neck lightly and felt Art instantly returning the gesture by gently squeezing the skin under his shoulder blade. 

Then it was all about performing again. He strummed the first chords of Old Friends, while Art wrestled with the microphone to put it a tad closer to Paul’s. Paul was pleased to realize that Art probably couldn’t stand to be far away from him right now either. He had to fight the urge to reach out to Art again. But this would soon be over, and then they could go back to the safety of a hotel room to try and figure out what exactly had happened here tonight. He couldn’t wait.

One last shared look and a quick nod between them, and they started the first words of Old Friends. Only three or four more songs to go before he could kiss Art again and find out where this was all heading. He was so restless and the presence of Art standing next to him, almost touching his side wasn’t helping anything either. These three songs would be the longest in his life, he thought impatiently, while trying his absolute best to remember all the lyrics he still had to sing. 

Who knew that ten minutes could suddenly feel like a century anyway?


End file.
